Sarah twirled her pen between her fingers as Professor Jansen called the class to attention. She wasn’t exactly expecting anything interesting today, but when he started with, “I have some important news about the upcoming competition,” she immediately tuned in.

  She glanced at Steve, who looked just as curious.

  “First, congratulations are in order,” Jansen continued. “McCall, Daniger—you two are the only ones from this department chosen to compete.”

  Sarah’s grip on her pen tightened. The only two? She hadn’t thought about it in those terms yet. A few students turned their heads toward them, some looking impressed, others indifferent.

  Steve leaned back slightly. “No pressure or anything,” he muttered.

  “Actually, there is pressure. A lot of it,” Jansen corrected. “Because your project won’t be like the others. You’re representing the Media Design branch of IT, and let’s just say… the university’s sponsors are watching.”

  Sarah exhaled slowly. Sponsors. Fantastic.

  Jansen continued. “There’s another issue. One of your competitors was just confirmed, and let’s just say… he complicates things.”

  The murmurs started before he even said the name.

  “Dirk Welsby III,” Jansen said. “Aka Mean Streak.”

  Sarah noted the collective groan that spread through the room.

  Steve let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

  Steve smirked. “Only if you follow the tech elite. The Welsbys own half of Silicon Valley.”

  Jansen nodded. “Dirk Welsby is their heir, and more than that—he’s worked on world-building projects for Microsoft, Apple, and Stroma AI. He codes like a machine. And rumor has it, he does it with his eyes closed.”

  Sarah snorted. “You expect me to believe that?”

  Jansen looked unimpressed. “Believe what you want, Daniger. But Mean Streak doesn’t need to be a good fighter—his scripts do the fighting for him.”

  Sarah frowned, sitting with that for a moment. Someone who had that level of control over the game engine itself? That wasn’t just skill. That was dangerous.

  “As if that wasn’t bad enough,” Jansen continued, “it turns out the Welsbys have a financial interest in Stroma AI. Rumor has it, they’ve been trying to buy the engine outright.”

  Sarah exchanged a glance with Steve.

  “So what’s stopping them?” Steve asked.

  Jansen smirked slightly. “No one knows where the original developer is.”

  Sarah tilted her head. “What do you mean, ‘no one knows’?”

  Jansen leaned against his desk. “Stroma AI’s creator vanished. Some say it was a small dev team that went dark, others think it was one person. Either way, no one can find them.”

  A chill ran down Sarah’s spine. “That’s crazy. How do you just disappear like that?”

  Steve let out a short laugh. “You know how people are. They probably think the government got involved.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Right, because that’s believable.”

  Jansen and Steve exchanged a look. Sarah sat forward. “Wait. You’re not serious.”

  Jansen’s smirk didn’t fade. “Not for you kids to worry about.” He reached into his desk, pulled out a small keycard, and tossed it to Steve. “What you do need to worry about is getting strong enough to beat Welsby. Which is why you’ll have access to my private lab until the competition.”

  Sarah’s eyebrows raised. “Wait. We get the secret lab?”

  Steve turned the keycard over. “Looks like it.”

  “You remember where it is?” Jansen asked.

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  Jansen clapped his hands together. “Good. Get to work.”

  Later that night, Sarah sat across from Steve in the university’s underground VR lab, the two of them in their headsets as they loaded into a private server.

  The moment they entered, she took in the massive combat gallery Steve had set up. Rows of weapons, training dummies, a central ring for dueling—everything they needed to test spells and weapons in a live environment.

  She turned in place. “Okay. I’ll admit. This is pretty badass.”

  Steve grinned. “Told you.”

  They got to work, scripting their personal combat loadouts, throwing strategies back and forth. Steve specialized in duelist-style combat, while Sarah focused on high DPS healing with counterattacks. At some point, Sarah muttered to herself as she adjusted a piece of her healing script.

  “I need to rework my cast timing,” she said. “I always hesitate before I heal.”

  Steve didn’t even look up from his own code. “Hesitation gets you killed.”

  Sarah froze. The words hit her like a punch, and she just stared at him for a second. That was exactly what Mackiaveli had said to her word for word after her fight with Vessa. Still focused on his screen, Steve didn’t seem to notice how she was staring. Or if he did, he played it off. Sarah shook her head, forcing herself to focus.

  No. I’m reading into things too much.

  It’s just a common phrase. Anyone could say that.

  Still, the nagging thought didn’t go away. And as they continued working, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Steve knew more than he let on. Just as Sarah was tweaking one of her spell transitions, Steve opened his inventory and pulled out a small, glowing device in his hand.

  “Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

  Sarah blinked at the floating object, a sleek, compact HUD interface with a deep blue tint. It looked custom-made—nothing like the default ones used in Another Life.

  She hesitated. “What is it?”

  “A combat HUD,” Steve said. “I scripted it a while ago, but I made some extra tweaks for you when I found out we’d be working together.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Wait. You built this from scratch?”

  Steve smirked. “You sound surprised.”

  She took the HUD and examined it, the small interface hovering in front of her like a holographic menu. “I didn’t think you’d go out of your way to make something for me.”

  Steve shrugged. “I figured you’d need something more efficient. You’re running a hybrid build, which means quick weapon swaps, ability rotations, and active spell modifications in combat. The default HUDs aren’t great for that. This one makes the process smoother.”

  Sarah looked at him, then back at the HUD. A part of her didn’t want to accept it—she didn’t like feeling like she owed people—but this? This was actually useful.

  “Alright,” she said. “Walk me through it.”

  Steve’s smirk softened as he pulled up his own interface, bringing up a replica of her HUD.

  “First, this section—” He highlighted an area on the display. “—is for weapon transitions. You can cycle between your loadouts without opening a menu, just by using shortcut commands. I set it up to match your current bindings, so you don’t have to retrain your muscle memory.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. “That’s… actually really thoughtful.”

  Steve ignored the compliment, continuing. “Next, on-the-fly spell coding. You can alter spell properties in real-time within a set range of parameters. For example, you can increase healing power but lower range or buff damage but increase cooldown time. It won’t let you go outside the system’s balance limitations but’ll help you adjust on the fly.”

  Sarah’s interest deepened. Next—level scripting was something she’d never seen in Another Life’s standard combat tools.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “This part here—” Steve pointed to the right of the display. “—is for environmental tracking. It’ll log movements of nearby opponents and teammates, tracking their status, cooldowns, and debuffs. Helps you make smarter plays without having to pull up a full status screen mid-fight.”

  Sarah was already impressed, but when she looked at the last section of the interface, she noticed something extra.

  “What’s this?” she asked, pointing at a small icon in the bottom-left corner labeled ‘Emergency Mode’.

  Steve hesitated, then scratched the back of his neck. “That’s, uh… an override feature.”

  Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Override for what?”

  “If you ever get hit with a full disable effect—like a stun or silence—you can trigger it to break free early. It’s on a one-time cooldown per match, but it gives you a chance to recover in a pinch.”

  Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait. That’s not even a default mechanic in the game.”

  “It’s a workaround,” Steve admitted. “I coded it myself.”

  She stared at him. “You coded me a built-in cheat?”

  Steve smirked. “I prefer to call it a strategic failsafe.”

  Sarah shook her head, but she couldn’t help but smile. “That’s… actually really cool.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Steve said. “Just don’t rely on it too much. It’s a last resort, not a crutch.”

  Sarah toggled through the HUD’s functions, genuinely impressed. It was smooth, efficient, and easy to use—and the fact that Steve had built it specifically for her made her feel…

  She paused, forcing that thought aside.

  “I appreciate this,” she said, more sincerely than she expected. “Really.”

  Steve shrugged like it was nothing, but she noticed the hint of satisfaction in his expression. And maybe that was why she was less threatened by him. For now, they were on the same team. They also both had a new rival to beat.

  And it wasn’t Mackiaveli.

  She sighed as she relaxed her shoulders.. At some point, the conversation shifted.

  “You ever done a coding project with someone before?” he asked as he adjusted a few script parameters.

  “Not like this,” she admitted. “I usually work alone. But I guess that’s changing.”

  “Guess so.”

  “There is this one guy, though.”

  Steve’s fingers stilled over his keyboard. “Oh?”

  She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “It’s dumb. I mean, I don’t even know his real name. Just his handle.”

  Steve didn’t look at her, but his posture had changed. “Who is it?”

  “Mackiaveli,” she said without thinking.

  Steve stopped typing completely. She kept talking, unaware of how tense he had just gotten.

  “He’s just… different. He’s smart. Strong. And there’s something about how he carries himself. He’s chivalrous but also a complete ass.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. He just… he gets to me.”

  Silence stretched between them. After a beat, she huffed, shifting awkwardly. “That probably sounds stupid.”

  Steve forced himself to keep his tone neutral. “Not stupid. Just… unexpected.”

  She laughed lightly. “Yeah. Well. It’s just a dumb online thing.”

  She stretched, then pushed herself up. “We should probably call it a night.”

  Steve nodded, watching her for a moment before she logged out. He stayed behind, staring at his code window, but his thoughts were a mess. She liked him. And she didn’t even know it was him. He had planned to keep his identity a secret until the competition, but now?

  Now, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Sarah logged into Another Life VR, adjusting her interface as the world around her materialized. The training grounds were already packed—players of every level running combat drills, testing new builds, and strategizing for the upcoming 2v2 and 3v3 tournaments.

  The group chat for Skatz Partz Combat Training was flooded with messages.

  Hexa: "Everyone’s grouping up for 2v2 training. Dani, you in?"

  Byte: "Dani's gotta prove herself first. No free carries!"

  Shiro: "Plz. If she survives more than 5 mins, she’s better than half these people."

  Sarah smirked at their banter, but before she could reply, a private message popped up from an unexpected name.

  Vessa: "Partner up with me. Let’s test that new combat HUD of yours."

  Sarah’s fingers hovered over the keyboard.

  Vessa? I figured she’d be training with her own guild…

  But after the way their last fight ended, Sarah wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to train with someone that good.

  Dani: "Deal. You free for 2v2s?"

  Vessa: "Already queued. Meet me at the eastern gate."

  Sarah teleported to the designated spot, finding Vessa waiting near the team sign-up terminal. The snake-woman’s avatar stood with arms crossed, her emerald-green tail coiled slightly behind her.

  “Was wondering if you’d actually accept,” Vessa typed in world chat. “Figured you’d still be licking your wounds after last time.”

  “Please,” Sarah shot back. “I was already looking forward to a rematch.”

  “Let’s see if you can keep up, healer.”

  System Announcement: 2v2 Match Queued. Preparing Arena.

  The battlefield loaded in seconds—a massive open courtyard with scattered ruins for cover. Across from them, their two opponents spawned in—a duelist swordsman and a fire mage.

  Sarah quickly activated her combat HUD, the new interface springing to life before her. The changes Steve had made were already making things easier to navigate—weapon swapping was seamless, and real-time spell adjustments felt natural. Vessa opened a private team chat window.

  Vessa: "You take the mage. Keep him off me while I handle the swordsman."

  Dani: "Got it."

  The fight began instantly. Vessa shot forward with impressive speed, clashing against the swordsman in a blur of rapid attacks. Sarah, meanwhile, kept a close eye on the fire mage, watching as he launched a wave of flames in her direction.

  She dodged, raising her staff to cast a dampening field, nullifying the heat.

  Gotta test this HUD properly.

  She tapped into the on-the-fly spell modifier, shifting her siphon strike to have a stun effect before firing it off. The fire mage staggered, caught off guard.

  Vessa: "Nice. Now don’t get cocky."

  Sarah grinned, quickly casting a chain-heal on Vessa while moving to evade another fireball. Vessa didn’t need much healing—she was handling the swordsman with precision strikes—but Sarah could already see where their playstyles fit together.

  Dani: "You fight like a rogue, but your style is more… surgical."

  Vessa: "And you fight like a support who wants to be a DPS. It’s a weird mix."

  Dani: "It works, though."

  Vessa: "So far."

  The match continued with fast, intense exchanges. By the end of it, they managed to pull ahead, securing the win when Sarah landed a final Radiant Purge, completely overwhelming the fire mage’s defenses.

  System Announcement: Team Dani & Vessa - Victory!

  Vessa: "Not bad. You adapt quickly."

  Dani: "It helps when I have a decent teammate."

  Sarah found herself genuinely enjoying the teamwork. Most people in Another Life rushed to recruit new players into guilds, but Vessa didn’t seem in any hurry. If anything, she was just… observing.

  She’s studying me.

  Before Sarah could question it, another match queued up, throwing them into a second fight.

  After their third match, Sarah finally took a breather, sitting on a virtual bench near the training grounds. Vessa leaned against a nearby pillar, her tail lazily curling around it.

  Vessa: "Not bad. You could get used to this."

  Dani: "I think I already am."

  Sarah tapped through her combat logs, reviewing her performance. Everything about the new HUD had been seamless—the adjustments, the tracking, the adaptability. Then, something caught her eye. At the bottom of the interface, a creator tag was embedded into the HUD’s metadata.

  HUD Creator: Steve McCall

  Sarah tilted her head. She wasn’t surprised—Steve had given it to her, after all. But when she dug a little deeper, another name appeared under ‘Script Contributions’.

  Script By: Mackiaveli

  Sarah froze.

  Dani: "W78r3qg"

  She hadn’t meant to type in chat, but Vessa caught it immediately.

  Vessa: "Uhh, you ok?"

  Dani: "Yeah, um, it’s nothing. Just… I didn’t realize this HUD was partially scripted by Mackiaveli."

  Vessa: "Oh. That’s not uncommon. A lot of people use old scripts from well-known coders. Either they’ve worked with them before or they’re modifying their tools."

  Dani: "But Steve—he said he made changes specifically for me."

  Vessa: "Then he’s probably a co-creator. That means he had access to Mackiaveli’s base script, but he rewrote enough of it to add his own signature. If he has full permissions, then it’s fully his now."

  Sarah stared at the flickering HUD display, her stomach doing actual flips. No. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t just some random reused script. This was Mackiaveli’s.

  Okay. No. This is a coincidence. Right? RIGHT?

  Steve could have just modified the code. That doesn’t mean—

  …But what if it does?

  Her thoughts spiraled out of control, and the more she tried to convince herself that it was nothing, the more it felt like something.

  How did Steve even get access to Mackiaveli’s base script?

  Does that mean they worked together?

  Or…

  Is Steve actually Mackiaveli?

  She snapped her menu closed, heart pounding in her ears. No. She wasn’t going to go full conspiracy theorist over this. She needed more proof. Vessa watched her quietly, as if sensing something was off.

  Vessa: "You good, healer?"

  Sarah forced herself to breathe.

  Dani: "Yeah. Just… processing."

  Vessa: "Well, don’t think too hard. We’ve got more fights coming up, and I need you focused."

  Sarah nodded absently, but her mind wasn’t anywhere near the next match. She had questions. And the more she thought about it, the more one truth became clear. If Steve was Mackiaveli… She was going to find out.

  This is part of a series of stories that have lived solely in my head for many years, and I’ve finally started writing them as serialized fiction books. If you think the story sucks, feel free to tell me—it’s all part of the process. That said, I’m also looking for constructive criticism, so any suggestions are welcome and will be considered as I work to improve the series.